Curriculum Vitae
by Irrelevancy
Summary: In different worlds at different jobs, the Varia builds up one hell of a résumé. Mainly Xanxus/Squalo, others include BelFran, 8059, 6918, 10069, etc. Occupation 6: Musicians
1. Salone de Varia

**A/N: This was totally inspired by a Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (KuroFai) fic of the same name...**

**=.=**

**But I feel like a copycat, in that sense, but really love this idea, so I also feel like an advertisement, in another sense.**

**...Whatever.**

**This was originally a oneshot I wrote on my livejournal (hyuuganeji11, if anyone wants to check it out), but I decided to put it here.**

**So enjoy~! Salone de Varia~  
**

* * *

"Welcome to Salone Varia! How may we be of-"

"Haircut. Now."

Belphegor stared intently at the customer through his bangs. The man exuded an air of importance and threat, even without his imposing height, the collage of scars that marred his face, and the mangled black hair that trailed way past his shoulders.

"Will that be-"

"Shut up," the customer growled rudely, blood red eyes glowering at Bel. The teen barely flinched.

"But, customer, we-"

Bel was once again interrupted, this time by the wad of cash slammed harshly onto the counter. Behind the golden fringe, dark eyes widened in surprise.

"I just want a haircut," the man snarled lowly, face inches away from Bel's. The blond could smell the unmistakable scent of wine in his breath. "Or is that too much to ask from the 'best salon in Italy'?"

Bel didn't dare answer with the man at such proximity. He had the feeling that if he answered wrongly, he'd be a smoldering pile of prince in a dark alley somewhere. But if he answered _right,_ he'd still be in a pile; just a pile of sliced up pieces of him on a platter.

"Of course, Sir Vongola," a voice answered for him. If Bel wasn't a prince, he would've sighed in relief. Instead, he just grinned and stepped back, letting Mammon take care of the situation. "Anything you wish."

"Greedy Mammon~" the blond snickered once the irritable customer had settled back, the wad of cash left on the counter swept up instantly by the waiting hands of the infant. "You just wanted the money~"

"Bel should show our customer his seat," Mammon replied mildly. "Before our boss comes out and slice him to pieces."

"I'm not afraid of sharkbait," Bel lied easily, lounging back in the swivel-chair he kept behind his counter.

"Maybe not, but you are afraid of his sword."

Before the prince could retort, a lofty voice floated out from the back of the salon. "Now now, the two of you, don't keep our important customer waiting!"

Lussuria swept out in all his transsexual-pride, prancing towards the "important customer" and offering a hand. The man barely looked at him. "I'm Lussuria~! I'll be your hairdresser this eve-"

"No," the customer refused bluntly, not even giving Lussuria the chance to finish. Bel knew all too well the experience of being cut off by this man, and sniggered at Lussuria's expense. "Not you."

"Well why nooooot??" The hairdresser actually managed to sound offended.

"Not you," the man repeated, glaring for the man behind him to stand forward, which he did without a second thought.

"Do not question Master Xanxus," the bodyguard with the weird hair and mustache warned, and stepped back in his place. He wasn't anywhere as intimidating as "Master Xanxus", but he served his purpose as a parrot to voice Xanxus's orders.

"We don't have any other hairdressers in the store at the moment," Mammon explained. "If you wish for someone else, you'd have to-"

"I don't care," Xanxus cut in, kicking over a chair in the reception area. Bel hopped to his feet, wanting a quick exit if the powerful customer was to snap. "Just get me someone to cut my hair for me this instant, or I'll-"

"VOOOOOOOOOIIIII!! WHAT THE HELL IS ALL THE NOISE DOWN THERE?!?!?!"

"And the noisy one arrives, ushishishi~"

Xanxus followed the blond's hidden gaze up the spiraling chrome staircases that led to the upper floor of the salon. Boot-clad feet stomped down the steps, and a man with long white hair appeared, scowling death at all his workers. At the silence that greeted him, the man yelled, "Well?! Answer me!"

"There's a customer, Squ-chan!" Lussuria simpered. "He doesn't want me to be his hairdresser, but there are no others to do it!"

"I don't care!" the owner snapped. He turned towards Xanxus. "Look, customer, he's the only one left, so take him or get out."

Bel was surprised he didn't get cut off. But by the appreciative glint in those red eyes as the Vongola looked his boss up and down, the prince knew why.

"Is that a threat?" Xanxus questioned, his words a threat in itself. The white-haired man refused to back off.

"No, it's an ultimatum. Look, if you just not look at him in the mirror, it'd be just the same as-"

"No, trash." (Finally, Bel thought.) "I refuse. I want my hair cut this instant, and I don't want that faggot doing it for me. So what else have you got, _Squ-chan_?"

Whatever patience the man specially reserved for customers was definitely lost on the young master of the Vongola family.

"Voooiii! That's not my name, dammit!! It's Squalo! Superbi Squalo!"

"Like I give a fuck what your name is," Xanxus scoffed. He stood up, and, in an instant, was beside Superbi Squalo. "Aren't you supposed to be the boss of this place? Don't you know how to cut hair?" A large hand came up behind Squalo and grabbed a fistful of the white tresses before pulling back, so Squalo had to look up into Xanxus's face. "So do it for me."

Bel had thought the world was going to end, with the way the Vongola had left Squalo's left hand free to grab his sword and slice apart everything in existence. But to his most definite surprise, his boss's left hand didn't even twitch once; instead, a dangerous smile appeared on his lips.

"Alright, customer, me it is," he agreed readily, yanking his hair free from Xanxus's grip. A collective gasp sounded from the workers of Salone Varia, and Squalo treated them to a customary scowl. "Shut up, all of you!"

"You've never cut hair in front of us before," Lussuria said excitedly. "Let us watch!"

"Shishi~ The prince is slightly interested," Bel added.

"I want to watch, but I won't pay you," Mammon offered.

"VOOOOOIIIII! ALL OF YOU IDIOTS, GET BACK TO WORK!!"

"Stop yelling, trash! Your voice is giving me a headache!"

--

Squalo led Xanxus to a seat by the hair-washing room, so he wouldn't have to move much when Squalo was done. He then performed all the standard procedures of getting ready - towel, apron, push-tray of instruments - and sat down beside the Vongola.

"How do you want your hair cut?"

"...Chop it all off," Xanxus answered, glowering at the mirror, as if he did it intently enough, the glass will crack and his reflection will shatter. Squalo quirked an eyebrow.

"Are you sure? You must've spent a long time growing i-"

"I said chop it all off, dammit!" Xanxus roared, fingers finding their way into white strands of hair again and pulling Squalo forward. "And hurry up about it!"

"...Yes, customer." Despite his agreement, Squalo still looked reluctant to "chop it all off". Nonetheless, a pale hand still picked up the scissors, and laid them flat against black hair.

"Don't you dare ask me again if I'm sure, trash," Xanxus warned, sensing his hairdresser's hesitation. Squalo sighed at this.

"It's such a waste..." he murmured, before lining the carefully sharpened blades alongside the hair, and cutting.

Xanxus watched Squalo in the mirror. While he worked, the long-haired man seemed like a completely different person. No wide, proud smirk or frown was on his lips, and his eyes were focused sharply on his work. It was as if he saw nothing else but the hair in front of him.

And he probably didn't, seeing that blond attendant, the strange greedy infant, and the other flamboyantly gay hairdresser stood right around them, and Squalo wasn't yelling at them to get back to work. The more Xanxus watched, the more he understood the awe in everyone's expressions. Squalo's cuts were clean and confident, like the way he walked and talked. The Vongola could read no hesitation, nor any excessive planning. It was as if Squalo knew what he was doing, but at the same time, also didn't. This instinctive way of doing things reminded Xanxus of himself, and his power-hungry battles with everyone that got in his way (and some that didn't). It was disconcerting, in the least, to have someone so similar to him, yet at the same time... completely different.

Superbi Squalo didn't have Xanxus's darkness. It's obvious that he was far from pure, but he didn't experience anything like what Xanxus had been through. Their similarity, and their difference made Xanxus's blood boil.

Yet at the same time intrigued him to no end.

--

"It's done."

Xanxus opened his eyes at the announcement, and the first sight that greeted him was his reflection. His hair was a hell of a lot shorter now, but the bangs were left to cover his eyes (for some reason, the weird hairdresser left those alone against his orders). He had to admit, the shark was skilled. The normal hairdo, done under those flitting white hands, looked spectacular on Xanxus's scalp.

"Wow~ Sharkie is surprisingly skilled," Bel commented from the side. Sometime during the haircut, he had wandered from behind Squalo to the seat besides Xanxus, and now hung off the back, grinning in his boss's general direction. "The prince didn't think he had it in him~"

"It's not fair though..." Lussuria whined, wriggling on the spot a bit. Squalo glared at him through the reflection of the mriror. "Why does Squ-chan get to do it? I can cut hair too..."

"Because Sir Vongola paid a hell of a lot," Mammon answered from the side. He looked up meaningfully at Squalo. "Four hundred Euros. The haircut only costed seventy."

"What the hell are you all doing hanging around?" Squalo growled, managing to redirect his glower to all three of his workers simultaneously. "Get going!"

"The sharkie's starting to bi-"

"Finish that sentence, Bel, and I'll murder you on the spot!" The blond grinned in reply.

"The prince would like to see you try~"

Before Squalo could honestly jump the teen, Xanxus growled, low in his throat. His meaning was instantly gotten throughout the room, and everyone was gone faster than they had appeared. Only the hairdresser remained.

"Since you paid so much, I'll wash your hair for you too," Squalo offered, sliding his trusty scissors back into his waist-pouch. "How about it?"

Xanxus didn't reply verbally; just got up and sat back down at the seat before the sink specially designed for the purpose of Squalo's offer. Out of the corner of his eyes, the Vongola saw the young hairdresser shrug, and walk out of his line of sight. Soon, those same hands that held those silver scissors almost sacredly were on his scalp, pulling and massaging before the wash started. Unknowingly, Xanxus relaxed by the touch, and settled into the black leather seat, waiting for the service he was promised.

"Is this hot enough?" Squalo asked once the water trickled against Xanxus's scalp. His other hand pressed at his customer's temple, rubbing in soothing circles.

"...Too cold," was Xanxus's reply. Squalo wordlessly turned the hot water higher, until the heat singed his hand, until the furrow between Xanxus's brows disappeared. With that, the hairdresser began to wash, massaging Xanxus's scalp with shampoo-lathered and callouse-covered hands, eyes focused on the customer's face for any sign of discomfort.

Squalo found none.

Without realizing, Xanxus had drifted into a subconscious dream, relaxing so entirely into Squalo's hands and the steaming water. This comfort was something he hadn't felt in such a long time... Eight years, he believed, trapped in coma from an avalanche. That's when his hair had grown to such a surprising length (though nowhere near as long as the hairdresser's). Muscles pulled taut from repeating dreams of being buried in the suffocating snow lapsed in their strength as surprisingly gentle fingertips pushed at his scalp. It was as if Xanxus was a puppet, reacting to every small action his puppeteer, Squalo, offered. Squalo, his hairdresser. Squalo, his puppeteer...

"Yes?"

Xanxus's eyes snapped open at Squalo's... reply? He had spoken in his dreams, had whispered that one name that kept stomping around in his mind. He had lost control because of this gorgeous, souped-up model of a hairdresser had _washed his fucking hair_. Either Xanxus had really lost whatever was left of his sanity, or Squalo had some strange powers.

He was willing to bet on the strange powers. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough money to spare, anyways.

Nonetheless, Xanxus was affected by whatever magic the hairdresser held, and that was an all-time low for him. The Vongola hated anyone who had witnessed any moment of his weakness, and worked harder than anything to make sure no one did. Yet this man... This Superbi Squalo had managed to break past all his defenses with a pair of skilled white hands and see him at his weakest... This man he knew for barely half an hour. Xanxus knew he had two options. One, Squalo could die, or two...

Squalo could become his.

...He'd just have to see exactly _how_ skilled those white hands were.

"You owe me," Xanxus answered the one worded question. He watched Squalo blink a couple of times, as if to get those words through his head, but failed to do so, if the confused expression on his face was any factor. The Vongola stood up from his seat, water dripping off his hair and drawing burning lines down his back.

"Excuse me?_ I owe you??_" Squalo asked incredulously.

Xanxus nodded. "For treating me. You owe me."

"Oh really?" The hairdresser finally caught on to what the Vongola was saying. His voice was now more skeptical than surprised. "And exactly how much do I owe you for doing you a favor??"

"Are you suggesting I have a price?" Xanxus growled, slamming a hand into the cabinet behind Squalo's head. The man stepped back in caution, but the Vongola kept stepping forward until he had Squalo pressed flush against the wall. By now, Squalo had fully caught up.

"How do I pay you, then, Xanxus-sama...?" the hairdresser breathed, half-lidded eyes gazing lustily at the pair of lips hair's breath away from his own.

"Depends," Xanxus replied, right hand pressing into Squalo's side, pulling his hips close. Without warning, he grinded. Squalo gasped at the sudden contact, and Xanxus took the opportunity to close his mouth over the shark's. A passionate sort of make-out followed, if biting and chewing at lips and gums were acts of passion. Finally, Xanxus pulled away from the bloodied lips of Squalo, hard breaths mingling with the other's, licking his own lips free of the crimson liquid.

"Do you have a bed upstairs, or do I have to rent a motel?"

* * *

**A/N: Grrrrrr...**

**I hate 'em pointless oneshots...**

**But apparently, my muse enjoys writing htem hell of a lot...**

**...Well, I don't really hate them, per say. I love it when other people write them.**

**...Me, on the other hand...**

**Review? And I'll keep this going~!!!  
**


	2. Vongola Academy

**A/N: Since I promised different pairings at the front page...**

**I tried to include everyone here.**

**Keyword: tried.**

**xD**

**Writing this just made me want to read a fic where everyone was in school, or something. Like, EVERYBODY.**

**Enjoy~!!  
**

**

* * *

**It was on days like this that Hayato realizes, truly, just how much he hated his life.

Two rows of teeth clamp down harshly at one end of the cigarette, gnawing through the paper and everything inside, chewing right through. Deep furrows marred his handsome face, contorting it into something like a devil's imperfect mask. In his fit of anger, custom-made loafer-clad left foot socked out and knocked over a table, breaking through the constant drone of chatter in the classroom. Everyone instantly fell silent as the Japanese-Italian stormed forward, heading for the door.

"Gokudera-san!"

Hayato didn't want to turn around to face his phys ed teacher. Or rather, he couldn't. The shiver that had seemed to have permenantely imbeded itself within his back kept it straight and stiff. Unfortunately, the paralysis affected his legs too, since it seemed like he couldn't walk away either.

"Gokudera-san! I'm talking to you!"

"Ah... Shut up already!" Hayato growled, twisting around against all his body's warnings, instantly regretting it as he came face-to-face with_ Professor Lussuria_'s steel-melting pout. Steel-melting, because to prevent from seeing it, so many people would do anything just to get away. Including melting steel. "I'm leaving!"

"But whyyyyy?" the Professor whined, wiggling a bit on the spot. The feather boa he sported around his neck floated around him and seem to give off tiny specks of sparkles, since Hayato felt like he was about to die from the absolute disgust the scene caused him. "We were just getting to the interesting parts!"

"You sicken me!" With that, the gray-haired teen spun right around and continued his trek out the door. He didn't care if he got in trouble. He just needed to get out of there before-

"But Gokudera-kun! Don't you want to know what the prostate is and how to find it???"

--

It had not been two full cigarettes before Hayato came across a teacher he couldn't avoid. Not like he would've, had he known Rokudo-sensei was coming. He was just too fucking pissed off to bother.

"And what might you be doing out of class?"

The teen glared up at the teacher, whose eyes seem to see right through him. Even the dark blue contact he wore couldn't completely block out the strange character on his right eye, nor its original piercing red. "None of your business!"

"Ah, but it is my business," Mukuro breezed, carelessly brushing a strand of long blue hair off his shoulders. "I'm a teacher, after all. Don't you remember? You just had me earlier in the day."

"Shut up..."

"Now that's not a really polite way to talk to your elders, now is it?"

"I don't care!" Hayato yelled, ripping the cigarette out of his mouth and grounding it down on the inside of the waterfountain. "Just leave me alone! I'm not going back to class!"

"Oya oya... What class do you have?"

That was a strange question, and the teen was momentarily fazed before answering the heterochromatic man. "Um... Phys Ed."

"And you're in 2A- _oh_." Mukuro seemed to come to a realization, and offered Hayato a sympathetic look. "You have Professor Lussuria, eh? Well... Can't say I blame you, then."

Hayato looked up at his trigonometry teacher in surprise, not knowing how to answer. Fortunately, he didn't have to, for a candy-sweet voice did it for him.

"Ara, Mukuro-kun... You shouldn't talk about your fellow staff members like that~"

For once, Rokudo-sensei's smile seem to falter, breaking into something momentarily dark, embarrassed, and challenged. Turning around, Hayato faced yet another problematic figure - the school's doctor, Byakuran-san. Fortunately, all of the white-haired man's attention seemed to be on the math teacher. As he drew closer, Mukuro seemed to step back. Byakuran saw this, and put on a hurt expression.

"Ah... I'm wounded by your coldness, Mukuro-kun..."

"What can I do for you, Byakuran?" Mukuro asked in stiff courtesy. Byakuran pouted a little bit, but smiled again as he pulled Mukuro closer to him.

"I just want to have a little... _talk_ with you. In my office, if you don't mind."

Mukuro quirked a skeptical eyebrow. "We just had a_ talk_."

"But this is important!" Byakuran insisted, tugging on the long-haired teacher's sleeve like a child demanding candy. "I need you to come with me _right now_!"

Mukuro sighed in defeat, letting the doctor lead him back the way he came from. As the duo drew further away, Hayato too heaved a sigh of his own - his of relief. But evidently, he took the breath at an unfitting time.

"What are you doing out of class?"

Hayato turned in disbelief at his bad luck. Karma indeed, was a bitch, for none faced him but Hibari Kyoya - school counselor rumored to have made misbehaving students disappear off the face of the Earth.

And those were the lucky ones.

Kyoya's eyes narrowed when Hayato didn't reply. "Well? I'm waiting. Or would you like to tell me your answer_ in my office_?"

'In my office' being a widely accepted and used phrase for 'while I beat the shit out of your sorry ass until you beg for sweet mercy'.

No matter how mad a mood Hayato was in, he knew better than to piss off the delinquent-counselor. He swallowed before trying to answer. Key word: trying.

"I-I... I was... I was just-"

"Going to the attendance office to drop off the slips."

The teen's eyes widened when he saw who had answered for him. Professor Cavallone, who taught History, if Hayato remembered correctly, walked up from behind Kyoya. Kyoya didn't even have to turn to know who it was.

"What are you doing here?" the black-haired man questioned coldly. Dino, behind him, laughed ruefully.

"It's my prep period, Kyoya," he answered warmly, standing right behind the counselor, probably a bit too close for comfort. Kyoya, oddly, didn't seem to mind all that much. Not that Hayato could tell, with that stony expression of his that promised death to those who dare violate the rules of his sanctum. He just knew that the man didn't move away, and that seemed extremely odd and out-of-character in itself. "I can go wherever I want."

"Whatever happened to 'Use your time wisely'?" Kyoya droned.

"Whatever happened to 'Practice what you preach'?" Dino shot back, earning himself a dark, over-the-shoulder glare. The Italian was grinning again.

"Answer my question."

Dino held up his arms in the universal gesture for 'I surrender' and pivotted so he only faced Kyoya. Discreetly, he beckoned for Hayato to go. Unfortunately, Kyoya noticed, and turned his chilly glare back to the teen.

"And you. Principal's office. Now."

"Mou, Kyoya!" Dino frowned a bit. "Cut a bit of slack, will ya? It's the end of the school year!"

"It doesn't matter," was his answer. To Hayato, he ordered again, "Go see the principal, Gokudera Hayato, or you'll be seeing _me_ for the rest of the year."

Hayato didn't need him threatening him twice. Within five seconds, he had bolted for the front office, the two staff members turning smaller, and disappearing altogether as he turned the corner.

Not before he saw Counselor Hibari offer Professor Cavallone a kiss on the lips as amends, though.

--

Silence greeted the Japanese-Italian teen when he pushed open the door to the reception area of the front office. The window at where the secretary usually sat was empty, and the entire place seemed devoid of life. It would've seemed like a blessing from heaven to any student, but not Hayato. Counselor Hibari knew his name, age, class, address, and probably blood type along with all that. He wasn't getting off the hook for skipping class so easily. He'd take the principal over the famed violent counselor anyday.

But that's just because he's never witnessed the wrath of Principal Xanxus.

A narrow hallway behind the secretary box led down to the private offices. Dreading finally reaching his appointed destination, Hayato took his time reading everything stapled against the wooden doors.

Attendance Office: Mammon V._ Any parents who wishes to enroll their children to Vongola Academy please consult attendance clerk._ **Consultation fee - $150.**

Nurse's Office: Byakuran. _If the door is shut, I'm busy conducting bloody, gory surgery! No one is allowed to come in! Except you, Mukuro-kun, if you want. Oh, and Leo-kun. You too._

Counseling Office: Hibari Kyoya.

Printing Room - **Please be aware that our printer, the Gola Moska v.5000, doesn't work for anyone except the principals. So if you wish to get something copied, please ask Principal Xanxus for assistance, or visit the upstairs copy machine.** (The doorknob was dusty, like nobody had gone inside in years.)

And finally, the Principal's Office. The fabled inner sanctum of ultimate authority. A faded brass plaque read "Xanxus", nailed onto the top of the door. A yellow plastic box hung beneath that, and seemed to be stuffed with important papers.

Big red "IMPORTANT" marks were stamped all over the top. Hayato thinks he's right to assume that they were - as a matter of fact - _important_.

With a sigh, the teen knocked on the hardwood door. Hearing no response from the inside, he knocked again, this time harder and louder. Once more, no one answered. With an irritated sigh, he pushed the door open by the twisty-knob, and was greeted by-

In retrospect, Hayato probably should've known the doors were all soundproof for a reason.

-the frantic face of the secretary, hands out to ward off the looming face of the scarred principal.

It took a couple of blinks for Hayato's eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room, and when he did, he could clearly see the situation.

He liked it better when everything was flashing yellow and green.

Xanxus had Squalo pushed down on his table, and seemed to be in the process of ravaging his mouth while simultaneously stripping him free of the black suit.

"Voooooiiii! Xanxus- Get away- from me!" the secretary grunted as he shoved his boss away. But Xanxus was nothing if not persistent (well, actually, he was plenty, but for the sake of the saying), and ripped pale arms away from his own and pinned them on top of the table. The rest of his body weighed down on Squalo's, rendering the long-haired man completely immobile beneath him. Finally satisfied, Xanxus took a drink from the flute of wine on his desk before leaning right back down to chew on Squalo's neck.

Hayato wanted to run, screaming, out of there.

Hayato _did_ run, screaming, out of there. Maybe not in that particular order.

A couple of hours later, in the middle of Italian, a note was brought to Professor Giotto. One look at the note, the brunet waved Hayato over, and instructed him to report to detention - as per the Principal's orders - for two whole weeks after school. Hayato slumped back to his seat, actually quite relieved he had gotten off only with detention. He could swear the glare Xanxus had sent him promised otherwise.

And as so it happens, it did, if 'otherwise' meant getting front row seats in watching two teachers make out at the front of the detention hall.

"Ushishishi~ No talking now, all you bad children," Bel instructed as he sprawled out even more on top of his desk, pulling the Chemistry professor down on top of him. "Otherwise, the prince will get mad if you interrupt our time."

"But sempai," Fran replied, crawling up so he straddled his fellow Chemistry teacher's waist. "Aren't you, by telling them that, interrupting our time yourself?"

"Be quiet, froggy," the 'Prince' ordered. "Or the prince will stab you again."

"...Let's just resume making out."

"Good choice~"

Hayato really did hate his life after all.

* * *

**A/N: Har de har har.**

**I tried to choose the best position for them. Byakuran as the doctor just sort of cracks me up. But it's not like I can't see him in a doctor's coat...**

**Principal's office scares me, in general. When the door's closed, I never dared to go in.**

**xDD**

**Please review, so I update moooaaaar~~!!**

**Plus, reviews make me happy~~ You wouldn't want my sadness on your conscience, now would you?**

***pout*  
**


	3. Varia Theatre

**A/N: Behold... Chapter 3!**

**Because I just can't get the image of Squalo in an arabian dancer's outfit out of my head...**

**...Wish there's fanart... *hinthint***

* * *

"Please, Xanxus-dono, I'm begging you!"

Xanxus looked down coldly at the company manager, groveling pitifully at his feet.

"What do I have to gain in aiding you?" His words were as sharp as his gaze, and the blond flinched, as if he had just been hit. Amazingly, he kept his ground, and stuttered back.

"I... I have prepared a present for you, Xanxus-dono... A_ special_ present."

At the manager's hopefully insinuating tone, the raven-haired man scoffed. "I have no need for cheap whores. I have plenty of my own, scum."

"N-no!" the manager gasped, looking up with wide, terrified eyes. "This one is special! I swear! If you don't like them... If you don't like them I'll sign my entire business to you!"

"It's a deal then."

The blond stood up, but still cowered in Xanxus's presence. Shakily, he ordered his guards. "Bring them out!"

Idly, Xanxus lounged back into his chair and watched the gaudy red curtains part dramatically, placing his drink to his lips. But he never got around to drinking it, though, for - though he'd never admit it - the sight that greeted him behind the curtain shocked him into momentary paralysis.

It was your average group of dancers, except nothing about this group was _average_. Three dancers stood in the center of the platform, and three musicians off to the side. The musicians made an odd group, one dressed in a tall white hat and kimono, another with red hair, a tattoo on his face, and a bored expression, and the last one a serious-looking blond kneeling between the two, but it was the dancers that caught Xanxus's eyes. One had shoulder-length green hair and curious makeup beneath his eyes, dressed in a dark purple outfit, cropped tank top form-fitting and the see-through laces billowing out from his slim frame. The teen at the other end had a mop of blond hair that blocked his eyes from view, and a large grin to take up the other half of his face. His clothes were like the green-haired boy's, except it was a bright crimson, and covered with gemstones. Unlike the halo soft sashes trailed from atop the green-haired boy's head, the blond had a sparkling tiara, tilted at an angle, so half his face (vertically, this time) was in tinted shadows.

Then Xanxus's eyes landed on the last dancer.

Poised like a perfect Grecian statue, the man stood, pale skin and hair coveted by stormy blue-colored clothes of the finest material. The veil which hung from the golden band in which the handful of silver tresses were gathered failed to cover sharp cerulean eyes, promising death to all those who dared mock him.

Xanxus stood, enthralled by the majestic being. For an instant, blue eyes met red, and the raven-haired man would like to think the dancer teetered in his stance a little bit. With a feral smirk set and ready to go, Xanxus prowled forward until he stood in front of the man.

"...What's your name?"

"CUT!"

The dim lighting instantly brightened at the director's call. Infuriated, Xanxus turned to Lussuria with his Death Glare.

"What did you just say, trash?"

"Mou, boss..." the transsexual man pouted, completely ignoring Xanxus's threat. "Your eyes have just been captured by the beautiful dancer in front of you! You're in love! You can't just say your line so dul-"

"VOOOOOOIIIIII! I'M NOT GOING THROUGH WITH THIS ANYMORE!"

Lussuria turned his simpers to Squalo, who had ripped off his veil and thrown in down in anger. "Squ! Don't abuse the costumes like that!"

"I don't fucking care," Squalo snarled, tearing off his shoes, and stomping on them as he walked away to make his point. "This is moronic! Why the hell should I do this, anyways?"

"At least you're not stuck with the role of the pathetic CEO..." Dino muttered at the side, receiving sympathetic looks from his new assistant, Tsuna, and a glare from Squalo.

"I'm playing the role of a girl," he growled. "A fuckin' whore, at it...!"

"You're not a girl!"

"Can't say the role doesn't suit you," Xanxus mused from the side, smugly meeting his coworker, and also subordinate's glower from over the top of his water bottle.

Needless to say, Lussuria's previous exclamation went completely ignored by his two actors.

"Voooooiiiiiii! You assho-"

"Shishishi~ The prince knew stupid Sharkie wouldn't be able to do it~ Now pay up, froggie~"

Squalo's attention was instantly focused on the red-clad prince, like a shark who had smelled a drop of blood a mile away. "Bel... What did you just say?"

"That there's no way you were able to do this, Squalo-sempai," Fran answered for Bel, standing to the side with his hands clasped behind his back. "You were too scared, he said."

"The froggie needs to stop lying before my knives drive into his body," Bel said, his grin slightly forced and slightly nervous now that the silver-haired actor's full-power glare was aimed at his head. If looks could kill, the prince would've been dead a million times and over now. Slowly, he turned with a new plan in mind. "I said Squalo would never be able to act alongside Boss, but apparently I was wrong..."

It was Xanxus's time to glare, and Bel actually winced. "What the hell did you just say, trash?"

"Well, you _did_ screw up the take..."

A terse moment of silence followed Squalo's unmindful remark, during which, the silver-haired man in question was hopelessly oblivious of the pandemonium he had just caused. A loud snap cut through the air like a knife through melting butter as the bottle in Xanxus's hand snapped cleanly in half.

"Alright, then, trash," the raven-haired actor said brusquely. "Let me show you how a real actor does this."

"Um... If you say so, boss... Scene 14, take two, ACTION!"

-Take 2-

"What's your name?" Xanxus purred, voice low and sultry. A scarred hand snaked its way up Squalo's thigh, and Bel couldn't tell whether the silver-haired man's shiver was voluntary, or pure instincts.

"Customer..." Squalo whispered, pushing himself away. "Please si-"

"CUT!"

"NOW WHAT?"

"Squ-chan!" Lussuria whined, hopping off his director's seat and skipping up to the silver-haired man, managing to somehow flaunt around his gayness a bit more as he grabbed his coworker's hands and got on one knee. Disgusted, Squalo instantly wrenched his hand out from the strangely clammy grip, and stumbled back a couple of steps. "You're being seduced by a totally gorgeous stud! Be more nervous! Stutter a bit! C-customer! P-p-please take a seat...!"

Squalo responded with an expression of utmost disgust, but turned around to go back to set anyways, simply to answer the challenging look the boss gave him. "Fuck this..."

Lussuria sighed, and whispered to Levi beside him, "Here we go again..."

-Take 3-

"C-customer!" Squalo gasped. "Please... Take a seat...!"

"You protest, but your body says yes..." Xanxus replied, reeling the dancer into his grasp. Like he said, Squalo found it a challenge to resist the heat in those hands, in those eyes...

"No..." the silver-haired man breathed. "I'm not a prostitute...!"

"You wouldn't have to be, anymore."

Squalo looked offended at Xanxus's offer, and slapped the large hand around his wrist away. There were trace amounts of surprise in red eyes, but mostly just anger, as Xanxus refastened his grip around the pale hand and threw it and its owner across the room. The dancer was lighter than he had anticipated, and Squalo crash landed into the table, amongst wooden splinters and glass and wooden ceramics with a loud crash.

"Don't disobey me-"

"CUT!"

"WHAT THE FUCK NOW?" Xanxus nearly screeched, turning on the director.

"Squalooooo!" Lussuria whined, giving his attention to the man crouching in the pile of broken furniture, examining the various cuts and bruises blossoming along his body with a deep scowl. Pale blue eyes looked up glowering, questioning without words What-the-Fuck-was-Wrong. "You're acting too much like yourself! If a normal dancer gets thrown into a table, they're going to yell or scream or something! And you look too tense right before boss throws you! You never saw this coming! You have to-"

"SHUT UP!"

-Take 4-

"You wouldn't have to be, anymore."

Blue eyes flashed, red eyes glared, and a moment later, Squalo was flying through the air, bracing himself for-

"CUT!"

-Take 5-

Xanxus's grip was hard as he yanked his fellow actor off to the side and into the air, watching from his peripherals Squalo's body soaring past the table-

"CUT!"

-Take 26-

Squalo was fit, and most definitely strong, but even Xanxus's arm _had_ to be tired after all that throwing. One last time, he promised himself. Last, perfect take-

"CUT! You know what...? Maybe I'll just cut this scene out, Levi..."

-Take 35-

The silver-haired man leaned his weight on his left foot, since the shoot before this (or was it the one before that?) sent his right ankle right through the table at a strange angle. He was so used to Xanxus's grip on his wrist now that he didn't register the tug before he was thrown into the air yet again. Instincts and his life flashed before his eyes as he approached his 35th table of the night-

"CUT! Last try, people, and then we're cutting this scene!"

Squalo smashed into the table, breaking the flimsy wood to pieces as he sat up, glaring at - not Lussuria, but Xanxus, challenging and daring. Though nothing in his expression changed, the raven-haired man's eyes took on an amused and intrigued look.

"Bastard...!"

"If I say you're mine, you're mine, you hear?" Xanxus's husky voice rang loud and clear over the overhanging microphones and through the speakers. He approached the silver-haired dancer, reattaching the grip he had on Squalo's wrist. "Now stand up, bitch."

Squalo obeyed, using Xanxus's hold on him to support his injured frame. The moment he looked up into fiery red eyes, mouth opened to deliver a none-worksafe speech, Xanxus attacked, kissing Squalo so fiercely it seemed like he was trying to suck his soul out. After a second's pause, Squalo started kissing back, letting the huge hand at his back pull him flush against the burning heat of the bigger, broader, and stronger body fit for a god. Pale hands snaked up to a scarred neck, wrapping themselves around it, so the two were fitted comfortably against each other; all the while, mouths never parting, sticking close and closer-

"Alright, it's just not working out. We're cutting this scene. Maybe we can put Dino in there instead..."

Xanxus started tugging at the flimsy cloth covering his coworker's body, and Squalo was more than happy to comply to his boss's wishes, arching to let the top be slipped easily off him. In return, he sought the clasp at the collar of Xanxus's shirt, hooking a fingernail beneath it and pulling them apart-

"Umm, boss? Squalo? Did you not hear me? I said cut..."

Dark hands roamed the expanse of Squalo's exposed chest, and the silver-haired man moaned into the kiss, every touch bringing sensations of both fire and ice, burning more than either could ever on their own. Those same hands reached south as their owners smirked at Squalo's obvious discomfort, arousing Xanxus even more as he slid a hand down Squalo's pan-

"Cut, dammit, cut!"

Squalo gasped at the contact, and bit down on the salty patch of skin in front of him, clamping his teeth around just in time for the bite to be stimulating, rather than painful. Xanxus responded with a firm squeeze to Squalo's-

"Alright, uh, everyone? Take five..."

When Squalo turned his head, Xanxus was there to meet him, catching kiss-bruised lips with his own again, biting then licking away the sting.

"Five hours should be enough, yeah boss?"

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**A/N: Hope you like...!**

**...Though it's basically crap.**

**Any suggestions to jobs or requests, I'm quite open (maybe a bit too open - I'm empty)~~~! Review, drop me a PM, or email me at hyuuganeji11 at gmail dot com~~**


	4. Varia Garden

**A/N: This isn't AU, because I'm not the only one who has trouble seeing either Xanxus or Squalo as gardeners by will.**

**Hence this load of crap- I mean, this chapter.**

**Enjoy~!**

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Xanxus really, really, _really_ hated flowers.

Not just because, for one reason or another, women (and some men) made flooding his office with bouquets of brightly-colored blooms their meaning of life (they could go die for all Xanxus cared); he was also horribly, horribly allergic to the pollen those stupid flowers _secreted_ into the air.

So why the fuck was he out here, in the backyard of Varia HQ, standing amidst the bush after bush after bush of fucking flowers?

All in all, he blamed Squalo for his predicament, as he always does. After all, it was the stupid shark's fault he didn't get the meat he wanted. It was the stupid shark's fault the wine wasn't the right kind. It was the stupid shark's fault he lost his temper, and it was the stupid shark's fault his office and a good part of the castle was in charred remains.

The garden, apparently, was the only place that was still whole, and while carpenters and workers swarmed the blackened castle, the Varia were ordered (by mail from the Decimo, of course, since the ant didn't have the guts to do it in person) to stay out in the opened space Xanxus didn't even know _existed_ until two hours ago.

Two hours later, Xanxus was still pissed as hell.

"Mou, Boss...!" Lussuria admonished, looking way too happy as he wiped sweat from his brow. He passed by Xanxus to dump the handful of dandelions into the compost bin, successfully releasing a cloud of yellow right by his boss's nose. All of Xanxus's energy had to be spent on holding back the pending sneeze, and (sadly) couldn't go into glaring Lussuria to death. "You should help us clear up a spot to set up the tent!"

"Shut up!" Levi exclaimed, popping up from behind a giant hedge of ash leaf spireas to defend his boss, unfortunately sending another puff of pollen into the air. Xanxus had stopped breathing by now, holding his breath and silently cursing every single flower to suffer and die horrible deaths. "Boss will never have to work, as long as I'm serving him!"

"Shishishi~" Bel looked up from where he was straddling Fran's waist, trying to, apparently, tickle the illusionist into laughing (it wasn't working so well- Fran still stared up impassively, proclaiming quite loudly he wasn't at all ticklish and would sempai stop raping him already). He waved around the bunch of kashmir roses in the air. Xanxus would very much like to pull out his gun and shoot, had his hands not been itching to grab his nose, or to reach inside his fucking lungs and rip them out so he doesn't sneeze anymore. "Then wouldn't Boss be horribly bored? Even royalty has to do something sometimes, y'know..."

"VOOOIIII! ALL OF YOU SHUT UP AND GET BACK TO WORK!"

Squalo jumped down from the tree, holding the hose Bel had tied Mammon up there with (the Arcobaleno now rested on his head, no doubt cursing the prince to a million hells and back- and by the looks of Bel, who suddenly stood and started swatting at the empty air around him, he was cursing him good). The force with which his boots slammed into the ground managed to resurrect the deadened pollen that had settled by Xanxus's throne.

Everything was that stupid shark's fault. _Everything_.

"Trash..." he growled, the wine glass shattering promptly in his grip. Lussuria wisely backed away, and Mammon hitched a ride on his shoulder. Before Xanxus could get his next words out, however, Squalo turned his attention to him, which wouldn't have been a problem, if the hose he held wasn't conspicuously been at Xanxus's head-level, or if the water hadn't been surreptitiously turned _on_.

Xanxus's eyes didn't need to be open to sense the tension, hear the sudden shush as sooty lashes, lathered with water, fluttered open. Red eyes promised death to all he saw, and at that moment, all he saw was the stupid swordsman who had pledged his sword, hair, and life to him, and managed to screw up this badly.

Then Fran murmured, "Waterplay?"

The heat in Xanxus's eyes turned into a different kind all together as he watched blue eyes widen in shock. Abruptly, Squalo bolted. Or, he would've, had a large hand not planted itself in his hair, yanking him back to the large, warm, and slightly threatening chest of the Varia leader. Xanxus then turned his cold gaze on the rest of the Varia.

"Disappear, scums. Now."

"No- wait- don't go...!" Squalo whimpered, trying his best to free himself from the iron grip Xanxus had around his torso. The rest of the Varia looked at him, Xanxus, exchanged looks, and turned to walk away.

"Play safe now!"

"If Boss says so..."

"Ushishi~"

"You're welcome, long-haired commander!"

"Die, Bel. Die."

When the garden gate swung shut behind Fran, Xanxus returned to the matter at hand. He discovered, quite pleasantly, that the face-ful of water had cleared up the building pollen, sending any risk of sneezing blasting off into the heat of the sun. He lowered his mouth to Squalo's neck below him, sucking hard. The swordsman gave a stuttering gasp, and the hose in his hand fell right into Xanxus's.

Defying all rules of gravity and time (Einstein could die along with all the flowers and Squalos in the world, in Xanxus's opinion), Xanxus was already walking away before Squalo could register his sudden position on the ground, and the fact he was sopping wet.

"Now we're even, trash," Xanxus said, almost pleasantly, as he disappeared inside the half-gone castle for another glass of wine.

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**A/N: It's summer, and my brain has promptly died along with all sense of creativity.**

**There are so many mistakes in this thing, it's not even funny.**

**But... please please please please pleeeaase review...! This fic has 4 chapters now, and less reviews than my oneshot. I'm growing uneasy here, people...**

**Discontinuation...?**


	5. Varia Entertainments

**A/N: Oh, man. This is what happens when I rush and want to go to sleep... -_-"**

***Dies a little bit***

**It's 2:22 a.m., and I've officially finished my promise~ Here is the new chapter for Curriculum Vitae, starring our beloved Bel and Fran!**

**...No XS in this one. Sorry folks.**

**For Bel, who apparently craves Squalo/Bel and Jill/Bel. Which is exactly why I wrote you a BelFran chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! does not belong to- *Snore***

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_G-G-F-F*-G-F-F*-G-F_

"Shishi~ Is that supposed to be a song, Froggy~?"

Fran sighed mutedly and looked up blankly at the singer laying on top of his piano. "Bel-sempai... You do realize this song has to be done in five minutes, correct?"

Belphegor's grin turned into a small frown as his hand slipped dangerously into his pocket, slender fingers no doubt clasping around the handle of one of the knives he kept hidden all over his body. 'Self-protection', he said they were for, and what could _Japan_ do to an international rock star? If he wanted to carry knives, he'll carry knives. If he wanted to stab somebody, he'll stab somebody. Hell, if he wanted to mutilate a corpse and skin it from head to toe, companies all over Tokyo will probably compete for the spot. Anything for fame, those worthless idiots.

"The Prince doesn't feel like writing a song," Bel loudly declared, sitting up from his stomach-down position. "You can't rush genius, Froggy."

This time, the pianist's sigh was out loud. "It's not my decision, you fake prince, it's the corp's, and if they order me to tell you to do something and you don't do what they told me to tell you to do then-"

There was a loud sucking sound when the knife struck Fran's hat, making Fran wonder exactly what the hat was made of. It was ugly as it is, big and green-black and frog-shaped. Fran didn't understand why Bel wouldn't allow his presence in the _continent_ he's on unless Fran was wearing the hat. Nobody did. It was just one of the many strange fetishes of the man nobody cared little enough about their lives to really mind. As long as it didn't trouble them, of course.

Selfish bastards of the society.

"Shut up, Froggy," the prince ordered, twirling another knife expertly between his fingers. "And get back to work, shishishi~"

"I can't work if you don't give me lyrics," the pianist countered, fingers poised easily in graceful arches above the keys. He was an aspiring pianist, second only to the famous/infamous Mukuro, but that was _The Mukuro_. There's hardly a way to beat _him_. With a harsh stream of air through his nose, Fran took the sheet music from their rest and handed them to Bel. "Write, will you? Fake Prince probably can't even spell his own name, much less write a song. I'll be the company just wrote it for him and gave him all the credit-"

"Ara... Froggy didn't seem to hear the Prince when I spoke first... I said, _shut up_."

Several more knives found their home sheathed deeply in the frog hat, and Fran didn't even cringe. His hands steadily gave the papers to Bel, and after a moment of tense silence, the prince took it with a disgusted grunt. He snatched at the pressed papers, instantly wrinkling them between harsh clutches, and Fran would like to think, underneath the golden bangs, there's a look of surprise in Bel's eyes at the large amount of work the pianist had managed to finish within such a short period of time.

"Ushishishi~ What the hell is this, Froggy~? You expect the Prince to sing this load of crap~?"

He would like to _think_.

"Yes, actually," Fran muttered. "Unless you've got something better up your sleeve, _genius sempai_?"

The singer's grin grew wider, which Fran learned was _never good_. Somewhat hurriedly, the pianist backed away into his seat, and his fingers found their positions hovering over the right keys again.

"I have something up my sleeve, Froggy," Bel decided to announce after a minute or two. Or five. Or thirty. They could be well over their time limit, and nobody would dare come in and tell _Belphegor_ that time was up and he had something to give them. After all, that's the reason he's such a spoiled brat in the first place, huh? His manager was too scared of him, his knives, and his attitude sharper than those. Instead, all the workload was piled on _Fran_.

_Hello there, karma. When are you going to work in my favor, huh?_

"I have something up my sleeve," the singer repeated, grabbing the front of Fran's collar and yanking him upwards towards him, until their faces were centimeters - millimeters apart. "It just depends on what you plan on doing to get it."

Fran kept a mellow expression, though his heart was probably half dead from pounding into his ribcage too much now. He knew what Bel wanted, what he's always wanted. He wanted toys. He wanted entertainment, and unfortunately, the spoiled prince had his eyes set on a certain frog, and won't stop until he gets what he wants. So what's easier than simply giving in? The pianist didn't like extra trouble, so the easiest way out is usually his answer.

Plus, sex with the prince wasn't all that bad. Inn fact, he usually enjoyed it, to a certain degree. That's why Fran didn't stop Bel when he reeled him in, closer and closer, until their noses pressed together, and their breaths mixed, and their lips were right across from each other's, and-

The pianist closed his eyes and leaned forward, taking the initiative and fixing their mouths together, like they had often done so before. Ah. He almost missed the feeling, Fran thought. The prince had a bloody sort of comfort around his aura - like an insane, abusive psychopath you know will protect you through thick and thin. Actually, that was more literal than Fran ever meant it to be. Bel _was_ an insane, abusive psychopath - extremely possessive, on top of that. He didn't like people touching his toys, and won't hesitate to hurt the bastards that do. More than hurt. Murder. Kill. Massacre. Genocide.

_Heat._

The sudden tongue pressing at his lips made Fran lose his train of thoughts on synonyms of homicide, and a little sound like a mix between a moan and a gasp surfaced from his throat. He could feel Bel's grin against his mouth and taste his smugness on the tongue sliding along his, and Fran almost frowned. If he wanted to win this thing, he had to focus, and that meant his thoughts couldn't be trailing off into the middle of nowhere in the middle of-

_Oh God, a hand._

All through his life, Fran remained relatively foreign to sex. He understood the concepts and their meaning, of course, but not attending public schools and instead home-schooled by private teachers certainly would put a damper on anybody's sex life. He would never let Bel know, but before he met the singer, he was a complete virgin, just minus the "blushing" virtue. Or rather more of a vice, in his sense. Bel's whole game with the pianist was to get a reaction. The more poker-faced Fran was, the more Bel would want to be close to him.

And it almost scared Fran to realize that made him erase his emotions even more around the prince.

_Unbuttoning. Flowing south._

The pianist gulped, and restrained his hand from grabbing at Bel's and yanking it away from him. He had to give the prince what he wanted, he told himself. He definitely did not want this. He didn't want nor need this, even after three months of not seeing the singer due to an impromptu concert in Venice. He didn't want sex. he didn't need se-

_A hard yank._

Oh, fuck it. He wanted this. Wanted this so badly, he wasn't going to lie to his body. Not this time around, anyways. Fran knew where that will get him. Instead, he loosened his inhibitions and arched into the touch, and maybe moaned a little bit while he was at it. He could sense Bel's gaze on him, raking up his body, up and down, like a predator surveying his prey before taking the first bite. With his trademark grin, Bel leaned in, and nibbled gently on the outer shell of Fran's ear.

"Good Froggy, shishishi..."

_Soft strokes. Not enough._

"S-sempai..."

"What does the Froggy want~?"

_Pressure. Agonizing pressure. Too much._

Fran gave a keening whine, and leaned forward, grabbing wildly at the singer's clothes, searching for a handhold.

"Tell me," Bel whispered in his overly sensitive ear. "What do you want, _Fran?_"

With a startled gasp, orgasm surged through the pianists's unprepared body, cum spurting out in irregular surges as Fran leaned forward, breath momentarily gone, clinging onto Bel for dear life. In the midst of white hot bliss, there was no way for Fran to have felt the hands supporting him from behind so he didn't fall back onto the tiled floor. He didn't hear the tender whispers of sweet nothings into his ear every time Bel breathed. Didn't feel the warmth holding him close until he was done, panting shakily from his finish. All Fran was aware of was Bel setting him down sideways on the piano bench and throwing his trench coat over him, grabbing the sheet music on top of the piano, and marching out the door with a satisfied grin. A few minutes later, when the pianist managed to compose himself to some degree, he got up and pulled the coat over his body, and followed in the prince's footsteps.

"_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn... But that's alright, because I like the way it hurts..._"

Fran's eyes widened an infinitesimal amount at the sound of a familiar voice and a familiar melody being sung from the recording studio. Could the prince be actually telling the truth at that time? Did he actually have the lyrics in mind already?

"_Just gonna stand there and hear me cry... But that's alright, because I love the way you lie... I love the way you lie..._"

All the breath was stolen from the pianists's body at the perfection of the tune and lyrics by the time he reached the studio, and Bel's manager was the first to greet him when he went in.

"Voooiiiii, took you long enough...!" Squalo whisper-yelled. "What the hell were you two doing in there for three damn hours?"

"It's all the fake prince's fault, really," Fran murmured, looking up at the imposing height of the long-haired manager. "See, he was telling me about how-"

"VOOII! I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!" he interrupted, turning around and switching his glare to the man in the recording room. "Damn brat... Always dragging schedule behind like this..."

Before Squalo and Bel left the studio for the evening, though, the manager called Fran aside for a moment, causing a look of irritation and suspicion to flash across the singer's face, promising hours of torture on the limo ride back to their hotel in the next province over, and handed him a large envelope.

"Thanks," Squalo grudgingly muttered. "You're the only one he does work around now, vooiii..."

While Squalo walked away, shaking his head, then opening Bel's car door for him, Fran stared at the prince. The only one Bel would work around? Well, he should be flattered, most definitely, and perhaps rethink this little obstinate hatred he held for the singer. But the guy... He was rude and spoiled and arrogant and_ such a jackass_...! How could Fran possible live around such a pompous prick for long?

Then Bel grinned at him over the limo's open window, and Fran found his answer. Sure, Bel was rude, spoiled, arrogant, and a total jackass, but... he was _Bel_. How could you possibly hate _Bel_? Suddenly, the prospect of working for Varia Entertainments wasn't so dark and gloomy anymore, lit up with a giant Cheshire grin of pearly white teeth.

And the stack of euros in the envelope would certainly play an important part in his happy mood for the rest of the day.

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**A/N: ...I'm so sorry if that's totally retarded, and you want to murder me so badly for ruining everything for you.**

**Fact: I'm sleepy. And when I'm sleepy, my capability to think goes down.**

**I'll definitely edit this tomorrow morning... *Yawn***

**Please review~! They make my day/noon/night~! And make me more confident about writing in general.**


	6. Vongola Entertainments

**A/N: ...I guess I should've realized... Going to an art school for writing... doesn't leave you much time to do recreational work.**

***Shot***

**I... have not updated. In a long while. So here is my weak compensation, written as I wait for my homework to f3cking load... Dammit, I have about... 7 fics started, and none but this one finished. It's a travesty to all that fandoms stand for and aspire to be. I apologize profusely. I really do.**

**Not my best work, but... it's 8059. Happy reading?**

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"Ushishishi~ You can't sing the song, bomb brat. The stage was made for The Prince, after all, so hand it over~"

_Can you feel me?_

_When I think about you,_

_With every breath I take._

_Every minute_

_Don't matter what I do_

_My world is an empty place_

"...It is none of my business, Gokudera, but this problem... you should go solve it soon."

_Like i've been worderin the dessert,_

_For a thousand days ( oooh )._

_Don't know if its a mirage,_

_But I always see your face, Baby..._

"Gokudera-kun? Is that a picture of Yamamoto...?"

_I'm missing you so much_

_Cant help it I'm in love_

_A day without is like a year without rain._

_I need you by my side,_

_Don't know how i'll survive_

_But a day without you is like a year without raiiiiiin (oooh)_

"Band 'Scarlatto Tempesta' start the year off running with their new hit single, 'A Year Without Rain', music composition by Fon, lyrics by Hayato, and performed by Belphegor. Since Belphegor joined their ranks as the lead singer, Scarlatto Tempesta has been at the top of the charts ever since. Belphegor's solo single, Love The Way You Lie, music composed by Fran..."

Hayato pulled the scarf tighter around his neck and the bottom half of his face, not wanting anyone to recognize him. Not here, not now.

_The stars are burning,_

_I hear your voice in my mind ( in my mind )_

_Can't you hear me calling._

_My heart is yearning,_

_Like the ocean thats running dry_

_Catch me i'm falling..._

"The song that's topped the charts since its debut a week ago, however, is by rival band 'Blue Requiem'. The song 'Monochrome Kiss' is a duet sung by composer Squalo and vocalist Takeshi."

When the song floated over the market square speakers, Hayato groaned a bit, and quickened his pace, eager to escape the familiar voice that surrounded him. Before he knew it, his steps had quickened to a jog, a run, then a full-out sprint that brought him, panting, into an alleyway by the side of a designer's store. But it wasn't far enough. Nowhere is far enough. Hayato couldn't escape the song, the sound, the voice. He couldn't escape the charismatic Takeshi, and his overwhelming tranquility, the peace he brings Hayato. They were the lead vocals of rival bands, sure. They were at completely opposite ends of the spectrum, sure. But that won't change the fact that they were...

What were they? Best friends? They seemed to be so much more than that.

_It's like the ground is crumbling underneath my feet, (Won't you save me),_

_There's gonna be a monsoon when you get back to me..._

_When you get back to me( ooooh Baby )_

But Hayato was out here for a reason. He ventured out into the wild world of New York City, risking fangirl attacks everywhere, to make his purpose known. That is why he looks up at the skyscraper lining the edge of the busy markets, to the side window with the photograph of a desert in the middle of a sandstorm.

Takeshi's room.

_I'm missing you so much_

_Cant help it I'm in love_

_A day without you is like a year without rain._

_I need you by my side,_

_Don't know how i'll survive,_

_But a day without you is like a year without raiiiiin (ooh)_

Hayato's hand froze above the door. There were voices inside-familiar voices he had just heard over the speakers outside; two voices many females in the world would give so much just to hear like... _this_.

"No- Squalo- I, no, wait-!"

"Fucking brat, you said you wanted this yourself! Don't go changing your mind now!"

"But I- I'm not ready yet! I still don't know-"

"VOOIII! YOU'RE GOING TO DO THIS NO MATTER WHAT!"

Hayato almost spun and ran away, had the door not flown open at the last second, missing the vocalist's face by a mere breath, and a cold, silver hand yanked him inside the apartment by the collar. In surprise, Hayato switched to his default expression, and glared up at the long-haired musician holding him. A pair of hands yanked at Squalo's hand and pushed Hayato gently down behind him, but Hayato was too caught up in the stare-down with Squalo to care particularly much.

"What the hell, you stupid bastard?" Hayato yelled, shoving the prosthetic hand away. "The fuckin' hell-"

"VOOIIIII!" Squalo's yell effectively quieted all the sounds in the living area. Even then, he didn't bother lowering his volume. "YOU TWO FUCKING BRATS! SORT YOUR PROBLEM OUT RIGHT NOW, OR I'M FUCKING KICKING YOU OUT OF THE BAND, KATANA-BRAT!"

With that eloquent adieu, the musician left and slammed the door behind him, leaving the two teens inside the echo chamber, heavy swallows and awkward blinking covered by the swirling sound. Hayato took a steadying breath, because he came here for a reason, and for one reason only. He was going to sort this out right now, and there was no reason to not. Forgetting to exhale, the vocalist turned, and faced Yamamoto with a steady glare.

Takeshi grinned ruefully at him at the same second.

Somehow, in that brief second, everything that happened... didn't matter anymore. The distance, the fight, the split... Nothing happened where everything happened, because _this_ happened. Chemistry. Electricity. Whatever books and teens called it these days. But if Hayato had to put a label to it, he would say neither.

He would call it familiarity.

_So let this drought come to an end_

_And make this desert flower again,_

_I'm so glad you found me, stick around me_

_Baby baby baby ( ooooohh )_

Takeshi took a step forward, and Hayato was overwhelmed with the desire to run forward and fall into those outstretched arms. And, for once, he let his inhibitions go, figuring Why the hell not, at a time, in a place like this? His action surprised Yamamoto (it was a pleasant sort of surprise, though, Hayato could tell by the dimples in his cheeks), and the two crumpled to the floor in a heap of cold skin and damp sweaters. After they've struggled out of their knotted state, there was an innocent staring contest, re-familiarizing themselves with each other (the deepening lines on Hayato's brow; the crow's feet around Takeshi's eyes), then a chaste kiss. Lip to lip, the two smiled through their reconciliation, and stood up in a warm hug.

_It's A World of wonder,_

_With you in my life_

_So hurry baby_

_Dont waste no more time_

_I need you nearer,_

_Can't explain_

_But a day without you_

_Is like a year without raiiiiiiiin (oooh)_

"You're selling your vocals too much, Bel-sempai," Fran commented, turning the volume slightly down on the stereo. Bel reached over the pianist's shoulder and turned up the knob in response, relishing in the sound of his own voice.

"Ushishishi~ I'm the Prince, Froggy~ If I don't broadcast my talent, what else does this group have left~?"

Bel fiddled with knives, and Fran poked at the root beer float in front of him.

"You can't be too selfish," the pianist finally announced, sticking a straw-ful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth with relish. "That's not the way a team works."

_I missing you so much_

_Cant help it I dont know,_

_A day without is like a year without rain._

_I need you by my side,_

_Don't know how i'll survive_

_But a day without you is like a year without raiiiiiin (oooohh)_

Fucking brats! Little selfish bastards that tie themselves to too many things. Can't they understand life is about dedication? There's no changing half way through, because if you do, you'll only end up screwing yourself over trying to get back on the "right" track. They were ignorant, _arrogant_ fools that won't listen to someone who's fucking been through all that shit, and want to do things their own way so they end up fucking dying, penniless, on the side of a road somewhere out in Montana...!

"Oi. Scum. How long are you gonna fuckin' sit there?"

Squalo blinked out of his furious inner colloquy, and grinned at Xanxus, giving his naked torso an appreciative look before clambering onto his lap. The silver-haired man offered a burning kiss-Squalo brought the cold, Xanxus brought the heat, and the two melted together in an impossibly well harmony.

"Shut up," Squalo breathed, biting at his lover's bottom lip. "And fuck me senseless already..."

"Blue Requiem once again tops the charts with a new single, "Shut Up and Sleep With Me", written as a collaboration work between Squalo and Takeshi..."

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**A/N: ...It's not so much a fanfic, or a songfic, but more of shameless advertising for Selena Gomez's new single, A Year Without Rain. I think it's a wonderful song, and had to stick it somewhere, so... Curriculum Vitae was victimized.**

**Shut up, and sleep with me shut up shut up and sleep with me~**

**...Sorry if it's not a really great chapter... I promise I'll compensate with something a lot better. Like a series of oneshots, completely unrelated to this. Any suggestions for those (I love Varia Crack. I love it so much, I could die from overcrackness) are more than welcome, but please don't take it personally if I fail your request!**

**Review, please...? I'm having a crisis, here. My teacher hates genre writing, and the entire class hates fanfiction. All I do is genre and fanfiction. What to do, oh, what to do...? (about my lost ego and confidence)...**


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